War is Declared!

The Conservators rue the day they took on the "powered craft" of the River Cam......

The quiet heroism of ordinary life...

I have been having a really bad week at work. I can't exactly say why by pinning it down to just one or two things: it's obviously more complex and therefore less easy to fix.

The truth is that while there are aspects of my job which I revel in and truly enjoy, there are others which I defy anyone to find even remotely pleasant.

On top of it all, I have been feeling put-upon and ill-used.

All, in all, then, thoroughly fed-up.

Then it occured to me that my Dad spent my formative years, the last of his youth and all of his middle-age working away at a job he didn't particularly enjoy to provide for us all.

It can't have been easy, and neither, I'll bet, was it much fun.

Yet he carried on doing it, day in, day out, for years.

I feel humbled by that.

Here I am, moaning on about a job I've only been doing for eighteen months, and this, the first Proper Job I've ever had.

For those of you who don't know, I was a bit of a late-developer in the 'Responsible Adult' department, having swilled away my twenties and thirties arsing around on stage as an actor, singer and latterly, stage-manager. Having lived in The West End in Dean Street, served my apprenticeship in The French House pub and been admitted to the ranks of Soho's demi-monde, I packed it all in to marry Jackie and move up to Cambridge and wb Pippin.

To coin a rather over-worked phrase, I got a life.....

And life is good.

The lesson it seems to be teaching me this week is the importance of the quiet heroes like my Dad, who worked their whole lives for others and never really bothered to think about it, because that's what you did.

Heroes indeed.

Thanks, Dad.x

Google-whacked?

My (probably somewhat imperfect) understanding of what constitutes a Google-whack is that it is the entry of one's own name into Google and it only coming up with one link......

This may have just happened to us.....

If you have a look at the first comment on the previous post, 'JustDroppinBy' would seem to have Googled 'The Mighty Pippin' having got the name through a none-too-pleasant dream......

This led them, presumably via a Google-whack, to us.

Blimey.

I have no problem with dreams or dreamers.

In fact, those who interrupt, discourage or scoff at dreams rather annoy me, much in the way Samuel Taylor Coleridge must have been really quite pissed off with the man from Porlock....(though I don't and never will have any truck with the misuse of opiates...you should have just said no, Sam....)

That aside, I feel it incumbent on me to clear up a couple of misconceptions:

Pippin is our boat, not a giant man-eating caterpillar, and according to The Pocket Other Place Dictionary, 'pippin' means...."(sl)an excellent person or thing".

So, a lovely name for our boat. (Even if we didn't christen her ourselves; thanks there to her original owners, Jenny and Rich.)

Possibly not so apt an appellation for the giant pupae of our blog visitor's nightmare, though...

Also, Pippin is just plain old ordinary work-a-day 'Pippin' most of the time.

She only turns into The Mighty Pippin when people are in trouble or danger, need feeding, rescuing, towing, taking in (to a hostelry) or putting out (if on fire) &c &c....

It's a sort of Super-Hero thing shared with the likes of Bob Parr, who only turns into Mr Incredible in similar circumstances.

Just thought I ought to clear that one up.....

Apologies.......

In the light of the tragic events which have recently unfolded in Tucson, Sunday's blog about tea and cake seems smug and unpleasant.

That was never my intention.

Tea parties take many shapes and forms in these difficult and dangerous days.

If I were a Democrat in America, I think I'd want to hold a National Tea Party where everyone invites friends and neighbours round the hearth for tea, toast, jam, crumpets, scones, cream, and cucumber sandwiches.

It might teach the other 'Tea Party' much..........

And Sunday was even better!

Another glorious day up here in Fenland....

The sun shone down and it was actually faintly warm.

Far too early to costitute a Harbinger of Spring, but very pleasant all the same.

It's now really cold, as the clear skies mean a rapid temperature drop at sunset, but the wood-burner is glowing, Jackie has made frangipane tarts which we are eating while drinking tea.

Not much to blog about, I know, but if it's still possible to be safe, warm, and full of tea and cake, then all must be well.

Hope it's every bit as nice wherever you are!

Worst weekend of the year...allegedly

Yes, this weekend is supposed to be the flattest, least pleasant, most anti-climactic weekend of the year.

I suppose with the festivities over and nothing to look forward to but tax hikes, we could all be forgiven for getting the blues somewhat.

However, I have been feeling unusually resistant to this fashionable ennui.(As you may have noticed, normally any excuse for a good grump is seized with both hands....).

This morning, we slept in 'til the unconscionably late hour of 12.30!

Well, it was raining......

I eventually rallied sufficiently to venture into the galley to make tea and toast, to see the sun had come out, producing the first proper shadows of 2011! (It has been either overcast or foggy or both since New Year)

This always gives me a lift.

Further, the colours of the land, so muted of late, now leapt out with a freshness and vibrance that reminded me that Spring is only a little while away.

I have no doubt we shall freeze again before it comes, but come it most surely will!!!

Having got up, I went to fetch firewood, then fetched the saw, workmate and hatchet and spent a useful hour reducing a very large scaffold board (which we found in the river on our way back form Ely) into wood-burner sized chunks.

Our Pramac P6000s generator has been getting a bit sickly of late, and was obviously overdue for fuel, air & oil filter and oil change.

Fortunately for me, Jackie loves doing this sort of thing, so once I'd finished sawing and had tidied away, I was allowed to toddle up to Emmaus.

For those of you who don't already know, Emmaus is my favourite charity shop. It is an organisation which works for homeless men. Google them for the details as they have a good website.

They are currently looking for volunteers to help out, so I'm going to pop along on my day off next week to see how I might be of use.

It's one of my New year's resolutions, to do a bit of volunteering.

I've also decided to have a go at learning French properly.

And have a go at pastry making and baking too.

Taking things on is so much more positive than giving things up, although that said, it is Day Two of Booze Ban Jan....

Wish me luck!!

New Year's Day...

Well, I don't know what kind of New Year you had, but I have given up going out for New Year since returning to my Soho flat in 2007, to see a scene of such wretchedness as would put even the keenest drinker off their sherbert:

Tattooed chavs with their bellys hanging over their belts chundering for England on hands and knees in the gutter.....

Their boyfriends looking on, aghast......

Mini-cab drivers eyeing up potential 'customers' for serious sexual assault....

But the broken Ship's Biscuit went to the couple making a grimly determined and very public attempt at a sex act.

In a telephone box......

Oh World, World........

So New Year and I do not mix. On any level.

This year, I surpassed myself.

I got back from The Hole Making Shop at 16.00. I started drinking at 16.02.

Jackie cooked a lovely steak supper, lots of friends came round, we drank. Lots.

I then decided that Thomas Cat was in need of a fuss. I went through to the bedroom, fussed him and fell asleep.

Time? 21.30.....

Our chums celebrated Istanbul New Year at 22.00. (Midnight in the Turkish capital...) to the accompaniment of some earth-shatteringly sonorous snores from me..

Happy New Year, one and all!!!!! x